Destiny’s Awakening
by Tiger Duchess
Summary: This is a reincarnation fic. All rights go to BBC. If everything goes to plan, updates will be every Tuesday! When Merlin and his mother travel to England from their home in America, they don’t expect Merlin’s secret to greatly endanger them. Merlin knows England is different - it has a strange connection to magic, but he can’t tell how. Knowing him, something will go wrong. A
1. CHAPTER1:STORM

Torrents of rain pummeled the pedestrians as they ran for shelter. Quite a few people were trampled in the rush, but nobody was injured. A large storm cloud hovered above the city, despite the clear skies only moments before. The storm had begun without warning. Suddenly, gales of wind swept up the trees' early autumn leaves. Lightning had torn apart the sky, thunder crashing above.

A young man walked calmly among the chaos, seeming to be only mildly interested by the weather's strange actions. He had another purpose in mind. A soaked sweatshirt and jeans was his outfit: the classic uniform of a teenager. At first sight, you may think him normal, but that is a mistake. Normal is something he is not, that I shall tell you. Merlin was his name, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what was causing the storm.

He walked farther, and he had to strain against the strong wind. His previously pale-gray sweatshirt was now as dark as the stormy sky, his jet-black curly hair damp and sodden. His hood had been blown back a while ago, and he didn't even atttempt to pull it back up, knowing it would come off again anyways. At last, he came upon a building. It had an unwelcoming aura, no signs declaring its purpose, no windows, just a plain white box with a door. He entered, and his soggy sneakers squeaked against the tiled floor.

A strange calling compelled him to travel up the staircase, farther up, going as high as possible. He finally reached the roof, a dangerous spot to be in such a perilous situation, but nevertheless, he strived to reach the top. Looking around, he attempted to find the source of his calling. He'd sensed the call just yesterday morning, when he first arrived in England. Merlin lived in America, but his mother insisted they take a holiday and vacation to London and see his uncle, Gaius. The plan was to stay for a month, after which Merlin would go home and hopefully find a job. His mother couldn't afford to send him to college. (He didn't want to risk living with other people, anyways, for reasons to be known later.) Merlin didn't remember Gaius very well, the last time he'd seen him being when he was five. That was thirteen years ago.

The compelling feeling he'd received was just that - a feeling, until the night before. A strangely wizened voice had resounded in his head, and it certainly wasn't his own thoughts. It kept telling him to follow his voice, to come to him. At first, he'd just thought he'd finally fallen from the brink of insanity. However, the voice did not quiet down, and the feeling only got stronger. It was an unscratchable itch, and it was infuriating him. In the end, he succumbed to the voice, telling his mother he wanted to take a walk. It wasn't a lie, just something to help him tiptoe around the truth and protect his sanity.

It led him to the roof of the building, but now he saw nothing. The voice in his brain seemed to be a figment of his imagination, after all. He'd just endangered himself for no reason, and his mother would be worrying. He sighed, about to leave, when suddenly the sound of a jangling chain jolted him from his disappointment. Turning around he saw an eagle, chained to a perch in a small structure that looked a bit like a henhouse. He wasn't entirely sure if it was an eagle, not being all to familiar with ones that weren't bald eagles, but it was definitely some kind of predatory bird.

It's feathers were ruffled and dirty, and it seemed old and unhealthy. The teenager felt pity for the bird, but he turned back to the exit continuing on. "Merlin, wait," a voice croaked. He froze. The same voice in his head. It was certain. Merlin was absolutely sure that he'd checked all the corners of the roof. There was no one with him. _Unless_… he whipped around, and sure enough, the bird was gazing at him with a strangely human like smile. It had unnatural golden eyes. "Do you recognise me?" The bird asked. _What. What. What._ Merlin thought repeatedly, not for once believing his eyes and ears. The birds beak was moving. In sync with the words he was hearing. (And he sounds an awful lot like Ollivander from Harry Potter, he subconsciously realised.)

"Apparently not," the bird stated, answering his own question, as he folded his wings beside him.

"...How?" Merlin somehow managed to squeak out in response. He took a few wary steps back, putting more distance between the two.

"How? How do I what? You'll have to use your words, young warlock. Mind reading, sadly, is not one of my many powers," it sassed.

"How- how this? How anything? How are you talking? Did you create this storm? How do you know I'm a warlock, most importantly?" Merlin demanded, having finally regained the power of speech.

The bird chuckled, which was a very un-bird-like sound. "I can answer all those questions all in good time, Merlin. But my time left for me to possess this form is limited, young one, so I recommend you come and meet me later tomorrow. What do you think?"

"I think I still need to know how you're talking."

The bird sighed in annoyance, recalling old memories, and other (very similar) annoyances. "My speech is a concept many have pondered over the years. I assume you could say it's just magic," he concluded mysteriously. "Now I must leave. Meet me in the Darkling Woods, tomorrow, at dusk." With that thought, the bird's manacle suddenly snapped open, and he flew into the darkness and gray of the heavy rain clouds.

"Wait! I still have so many questions! You can't just- huh." Merlin cut himself off as the bird left his sight. If he were a normal human, he probably would have gone insane or pass it off as some weird hallucination. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case with Merlin, and it certainly wasn't changing anytime soon. He hoped his mother and Gaius hadn't planned to go anywhere tomorrow; that would present an inconvenience. It occurred to him that they were both probably worried out of their minds at his disappearance. At least, his mother would be — she knew he abstained from staying out too long. Despite his age, he still didn't have complete control over his magic. Any strong emotion could result in a performance of unintentional magic. Merlin hurried back to Gaius' flat, hoping not to run into many people along the way.

* * *

Kicking off his shoes, the boy slipped off his wet clothing and traded them for new ones. Jeans and a thin but warm brown jacket went over his red shirt. Abruptly, he noticed there was no one else in the apartment with him. He frowned, but decided they were probably out to the market. The window had raindrops that looked like tear streaks rolling down it, but he could make out the sun's glow. Merlin crossed over to look closer. From the twelfth floor, Merlin could see the cars which looked like mere figurines now, almost indistinguishable from the toy cars his little neighbors back in America used to play with.

The warlock smiled as he thought of his home. He liked it here in England, but there wasn't a whole lot to do. They had plans to see the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, the Coca-Cola Eye and some other attractions, but they could do all that in less than a week. Merlin knew the trip was a mistake. Gaius had no idea of his magic. If he was caught, who _knew_ what would happen. Back home, only his closest friend, Will, knew other than his mother. He'd had a few other small slip-ups in front of others, but most just pretended it never happened, thinking their mind was playing tricks on them. "_Forbearnan_," he whispered, and a ball of fire decorated with dragon-like designs. Tossing it from his right hand to the other, he created one more, and began to juggle.

He liked juggling. Juggling was a pretty great way to pass the time and exercise his magic at the same time. He didn't always do it with balls of fire, sometimes he'd tried eggs, regular balls, slime balls, ice balls, and weird balls that he discovered only he could see. His balls never hurt him either, so he wasn't burnt from his fire balls. (He realised this didn't apply to other things when he dropped them one day.) _Up, down, up, down, u_— The door swung open. _Frick_. The balls turned to ash in his hands as he faced his incredulous uncle.

A/N: Whelp! Hope you like it! If all goes to plan, I'll update every Tuesday. Also — I'd like to know if this is an original kind of reincarnation fic, because I've only read two, and now that I'm writing one, I don't want to read more and take ideas from other authors.

Thanks for reading,

The Tiger Duchess


	2. CHAPTER2:CAMELOT

A/N: Haha, it maybe just an hour away from Wednesday, but it's still Tuesday! Just a heads up, I'm traveling across the world tomorrow, so if the update times are a bit wonky, that's just the time change!

The ashes fell from his hands and disappeared before Meerlin could process how badly he'd messed up. This wasn't happening. Maybe he'd just think his age was getting to him or something. Frick. "Where did you learn that, boy?" The wizard floundered for words. This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening... "Learn what?" He replied, attempting to keep the quiver out of his voice. "Don't play stupid with me, Merlin!" Gaius shouted. He flinched. Not only did Gaius know about magic, he didn't like it either. There was no chance he was talking about the juggling. Why would someone be mad about that?

"I.. I-I didn't learn it?" It wasn't a complete lie. A lot of it was instinctual, and other tricks he'd taught himself. At that moment, his mother walked in carrying a large brown soaked paper bag. It seemed it would rip if no one was holding it. It was then he noticed Gaius was holding a similarly soaked bag. His guess was right; they had been at the market. She set it down on the floor, the bag already wetting the carpet, and shut the door.

"What's going on?' Hunith, Merlin's mother, asked sternly. She sounded disappointed. Merlin fidgeted his left foot. He hated disappointing his mother.

"I suppose you already know of Merlin's magic?" Gaius asked rhetorically.

Hunith sighed, answering anyway. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me? I nearly had a heart attack, seeing him juggling balls of fire like that," Gaius said.

"Merlin's a special case, Gaius. He isn't a sorcerer. He's a warlock," she paused. Gaius took a moment to comprehend that, or so it seemed to Merlin as he observed the expression on his face. "I want the least amount of people as possible to know. I'm sorry, I should've trusted you."

"It's fine, I understand... but Hunith, do you realised what danger you've put him in?"

"What danger?" Merlin asked, deciding Gaius probably didn't hate magic. He knew that there was probably some kind of strange connection to magic in England. He hadn't encountered anything magical in his life in America, but in just two days here he'd met a talking bird and a man who knew about magic. Then there was that strange and sudden, unforecasted storm that for sure wasn't natural. Maybe there were elementalist mages? If one got angry, they could probably create a storm. (Or so he thought.)

"How about we sit down first?" The three followed his suggestion, Merlin seated across from the two adults on the couch. Gaius began, "There is a group of people who live here in London and know about magic. They call themselves Camelot, though most people just call them the Pendragon gang. They hate magic, having been wronged by it one way or another. The police reckons they're all crackpots, and whenever any of them are caught, they send them to asylum." He paused. "They always escape. They try to 'execute' those they catch with magic, but of course, they're not the law. It's just kidnapping and murder. They're led by Uther Pendragon, whose wife was killed by the sorceress Nimueh. He calls himself King Uther, however. He is rarely ever seen, and no one knows where his base is."

Merlin noticed his mother's quickened breath and gasp when Gaius mentioned Uther's name, and he was about to ask why, when Gaius answered the unasked question. "Uther Pendragon was my childhood friend," he told the two, "and he still visits occasionally." Merlin inhaled sharply. He was in greater danger than he'd ever been in. He knew the possible risks of having magic in a world that didn't believe in it, but this was a question that had never been posed. An entire group of people who knew about magic? This was a whole new level.

"Uther?" His mother asked. "But... how? I remember him so good-hearted. He wouldn't have hesitated to help one in need. I couldn't imagine him murdering anyone!"

"People change. But it's not like Uther murders them himself. He believes he's a king, and has others do the dirty work," Gaius explained. Merlin's mother was quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think we can stay if that's the case. I'll have to book a fl—," Hunith was suddenly cut off by the sound of knocking on the door.

"Gaius, you said you were still friends with Uther?" Merlin questioned worriedly.

"Hide," his uncle whispered urgently. Merlin dove into a large (but unfortunately not empty,) wardrobe. It smelled a lot like old people in there. Through a tiny crack in the wardrobe, he peered at what was going on outside. Gaius opened the door to a brown-skinned girl with medium-length dark curly hair. That definitely wasn't Uther, Merlin thought.

"I absolutely forgot Tuesday was your grocery day, Gaius! Do you need help with your bags?" She asked politely.

"No, thank you, Gwen. My sister came yesterday, she's helped me," he said, shuffling a bit to the side so she could see Hunith. They waved at each other.

"Oh, yes, I remember. Where's your nephew gone?"

Gaius floundered for words. "You just missed him. He went for a walk."

"Alright... well, see you later then!" The person, whom Merlin presumed was Gwen, left. As soon as he believed she left earshot, he kicked open the wardrobe door.

"Oh— it smells like heck in there! Please tell me I don't have to—" he paused and looked at the adults' faces— "do that again. Sorry." Merlin quickly left the room and slipped into the small bedroom he and his mother were sharing. To escape the embarrassment of being rude to his uncle, he dug through his cluttered backpack and picked out the only book he had brought with him. The Fault in Our Stars, one of his most favorite books. He wasn't sure how many times he'd read it. Merlin had stopped counting a fifteen times — that was when he was fourteen years old. He read it first at thirteen, which meant if he read the same number of times a year, by now he'd have read it— Stop it, he thought. No more math. You're on vacation. It didn't matter, he already had the answer, but he let it go and started reading.

Merlin woke up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He had been sleeping on the floor for the past two days, and he felt it in his back as he sat up, groaning. He stood up and stretched a bit, yawning. After brushing, he put on a black T-shirt and jeans, and prepared some breakfast. Well... it wasn't really preparation. He kind of just poured some Weetabix, a British cereal, into a bowl of milk. Only, he realized that he was pouring crumbs. He breathed out, and checked the pantry. There was bread, but he couldn't see a toaster. (Why was there no toaster?) There wasn't any other cereals, either. The only thing he could see was some porridge oats, which he didn't know how to make.

He checked the time on his phone. 4:30. Stupid jet lag, he mentally grumbled. He'd fallen asleep at six yesterday. His mother had adjusted easily, as she'd been able to stay awake until eight o'clock two days before, and probably improved last night. Merlin looked for twenty-four hour supermarkets, and found one called 'Tesco Metro'. He'd never heard of it before, but then again, he didn't live in England. He pulled on the brown jacket, when it occurred to him that in the very unlikely occasion that his mother woke up early, she might be worried.

Merlin noticed a neon colored sticky note-pad that was lying on the kitchen counter, and took a pen and scribbled out his destination and reason for going there. He adhered it to the refrigerator and hurried out of the apartment. It was still dark outside, as the sun wouldn't be rising until at least 6:45. As far as he could see, there were no humans in the streets of London. One could walk through the sleeping city and wonder if there were any inhabitants at all. The moon glistened, and would soon give way to the sun. The deep blue of the sky reminded him of a thick liquid, like melted chocolate, even though it shared no similarities with chocolate. He noted how the road was not cobblestone, contrary to his original thoughts on London.

Merlin continued on the route Google was giving him until he was standing in front of the Tesco. Walking in, he saw... absolutely nobody. Except for the cashier, there was no one there. It was interesting, strolling through the supermarket completely devoid of human beings. He shuffled to the left, craning his neck to see the aisle labels. After a few minutes, he discovered the cereal aisle. He was easily able to find the Weetabix. He carried it to the counter and paid. "Paper or plastic?" The cashier asked, looking as tired as you would if you were actually able to fall asleep as soon as you hit the pillow.

"Paper," Merlin replied, though a bit absent-mindedly. A chill crept up his spine. Something was wrong. The employee handed him the bag, and he exited the Tesco. Something felt different than on his way back. His magic was reacting oddly to an object in the general vicinity, and Merlin suddenly decided to quicken his pace. His mind whirled with imagined dangers; like ghosts of long-dead kings and venomous snakes chasing him down in the darkness. He liked to say he wasn't afraid of the dark, but suddenly all the childish fears returned to him, squeezing his insides and filling him with urge to run, dashing down the street like Archimedes after his Eureka moment.

Instead, Merlin decided to continue walking. There was nothing actually wrong, right? It was just his mind playing tricks on him. He shouldn't go out when it was dark, he probably just hadn't fully grown out of the childhood phobia. He sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, then repeated the action to calm himself. It worked a bit, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was out to get him. **Paranoia and fear are a terrible mix**, he thought in irritation. To be honest— A scream resounded throughout the city. Merlin froze. "...won't get away...brought to justice...father will be pleased..." he heard a male voice say. It was coming from the alleyway directly in front of him. Stealthily as he could, Merlin placed the bag of Weetabix on the ground. He winced at the crinkling sound it made as it settled on the cement.

Creeping along the side of the brick building to the right of the alley, he spotted at least five people — four male and one female — crowding around a sixth kneeling on the floor. He was wrapped in silver chains, and Merlin realized that was what his magic was reacting to. It became too much, and he took a few clumsy steps backward. Something about silver caused extreme fear as a result to the wacky reaction his magic had. "What was that?" He heard someone say. Damnit, he cussed mentally. Flattening himself against the wall, he stepped away from the alley, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. But with Merlin's luck, can you do that successfully? No. Absolutely not. The warlock found himself tripping over a rock, and tipping backwards onto his back. He scrambled to get up, but it was too late. A man with wavy long brown hair was holding some type of gun in his hand, and Merlin realized the red blur rushing towards him was now embedded in his neck.


End file.
